Chapter Twenty-Four
The necklace Atlan had given me was the one with Dekokles's soul.
He'd given me a necklace possessed by the god of nightmares. He'd done it intentionally. The longer I wore the necklace, the worse my nightmares had gotten. I hadn't noticed, because nightmares were a regular occurrence. What wasn't normal was the fact that my one safe haven, my one dream, had become twisted and dark and destroyed.
My one dream had been corrupted, and I had just passed it off as trauma... Or worse. A small part of me had actually thought that it was a premonition. I had almost believed for a moment that Hannibal could be like that. The very thought made me ill.
"Who has the necklace now?" Hades asked after I'd told them about the necklace. Lucifer looked at Hades.
"St. John. He took everything Menoetius had come in with. He'd told me he wanted to give the necklace to someone. I had assumed he'd found another bedmate and planned to woo her with it," he admitted with a helpless shrug. Hades raised an eyebrow.
"Your snake has girlfriends?" He asked. Lucifer gave him a deadpan stare.
"He's not actually a snake, Hades."
"Gee, could've fooled me with the whole creepy eye thing going on."
"You're one to talk about creepy eyes," a voice said, making everyone turn to see St. John leaning against the corner to the room, arms folded over his chest. Hades instantly bristled at the demon's presence, and I was still confused as to why the two hated each other so much that the grudge seemed truly personal.
"His eyes aren't creepy," Lucifer said sternly, to which St. John glared at him, "And neither are yours. Anyway, that's not the point. The necklace. You knew it had Dekokles's soul in it, didn't you?" St. John blinked innocently, placing a hand on his chest.
"What? Lil' ol' me? Why, I never. Lucifer, I'm so offended by your-- yeah, I knew," he said, instantly dropping his sarcastic bit to go deadpan, "I'm the fucking Demon of Creation, archangel. Nightmares are my playgrounds. And the births of special gods are my mandatory two-thirty meetings. Of course I knew it was Dekokles." Hades eyed St. John warily, arms crossed tight over his chest, body rigid. St. John cut him a stare. And judging by the twitch in Hades's brow, they were speaking telepathically, a conversation that the rest of us weren't privy to. And apparently one that was aggravating Hades to no end, because a charge of blue electric power crackled between his fingers.
"Hades, please," Lucifer said, touching his arm and Hades shrugged him off, "Please." Hades actually gave pause at Lucifer's plea, stared at him with obvious frustration, but said nothing. Lucifer looked back at St. John.
"What have you done with Dekokles?" He asked. St. John frowned.
"What should've been done to him a long time ago," he replied. Arikos looked pale at that.
"You didn't kill him, did you? It's not his fault Menoetius had nightmares. Dekokles is a slave to whomever controls the necklace and Atlan was just making him do it. He's not a bad god, he's just a kid, honestly," he said quickly. St. John gave him a strange look, almost like he was offended and annoyed at the suggestion.
"I didn't kill him," he said, and Arikos appeared to relax, "I returned him to his father."
"Zetnos has Dekokles back?" Arikos asked, brightening. St. John frowned.
"What's left of him," he admitted, making Arikos deflate like a balloon, "Atlan was using him for quite some time, I'd say. The kid is burnt out and exhausted. And he has no physical form in this world. He's just a necklace. One Zetnos will endeavor to care for from now on." Arikos appeared disappointed with that. Judging from his reactions, he must have known Dekokles personally. The thought of his friend being eternally imprisoned hurt.
Something possessed me to touch Arikos's hand to ground him, to let him know it was okay. At least Dekokles was with his father, and I was just too tired to be angry at him. Besides, if Arikos was telling the truth, Dekokles was just a child and he was only doing what he was told, what he was created to do.
"Anyway," Hades said slowly, drawing our attention back to the task at hand, "Atlan's made the last move he can make. I don't know about you guys, but I've had it up to here with that prick and I want front row seats when the hybrid rips his innards out." Lucifer arched a brow, folding his arms over his chest.
"What happened to kill the hybrid, serve his intestines to the mortals? I think you even mentioned something about shipping his organs out all over the world too. I remember that one in particular because Akin actually kicked you in the shin for it," he added, frowning at he thought. Hades rolled his eyes.
"I still stand by all of that, but I'm choosing the lesser of evils. Besides," Hades paused dramatically and Lucifer started to smile, but Hades shook his head, "I don't feel like pissing Lea off over something that stupid. I prefer surprising her." Lucifer wiped a hand down his face. St. John grimaced at him.
"Gods, you are not right in the head," he said, making Hades give him a droll stare, and St. John turned to Lucifer, "And neither are you. You know what? That's probably what makes you perfect for each other. You're both insane. Now if you'll excuse me, I have hell to raise and I mean that almost literally considering we have to get our armies synced if we're going to make our next move on Atlan as soon as possible." He vanished, and Lucifer turned to the rest of us, nodding grimly.
"He's right. We need to stop standing around, trying to think of ways to jump him when we should've just jumped him in the first place."
"Sneak attacks work best," Hades deadpanned. Lucifer nodded.
"While I agree completely with that, Atlan is too smart for it. And now we have Menoetius here to relay information he gathered during his capture," he paused to turn to me, "After you're well, that is. It shouldn't be long now. Once you're on your feet, we'll call a meeting with all the major players. Is that alright with you?" I frowned. He was asking my permission? Quite a change in tune considering he'd just accused me of trying to kill his lover... which sounded awfully appealing. Still, the fact that he was asking at all was surprising. I simply nodded and Lucifer relaxed, offering me a smile.
"Alright, then we'll leave you in Arikos's capable hands and allow you to rest. I'll also have someone send over your new uniform," he added.
"New uniform?" I asked. Lucifer nodded.
"You've been added to the front lines with Hannibal. He leads a particular group in my forces. It'll be explained when he comes later to check on you," he replied, then gave me a nod and gesture for Hades to follow him. Hades tsked at that and shouldered Lucifer out of the way as he left the room, with Lucifer smiling like a fool the whole way... because he had a great view of Hades's backside on the way out. I grimaced.
And I thought my parents were dysfunctional.
"Wait, Hannibal's coming here?" I asked suddenly realizing what Lucifer said. A wave of apprehension hit me and I swallowed, twisting my fist up in the sheets. It wasn't so much the nightmare version of him that scared me-- I mean, it did. It scared me shitless, even now knowing it was just a nightmare brought on by a sleep god. It was just dealing with Hannibal that always ramped my anxiety up.
Even worse, Hannibal knew about my daily ritual. How was he going to react? Hades hadn't reacted at all, something that still shocked me. I had expected yet another long rant about how I'd destroyed a perfectly good physical form. He hadn't said anything about it once. Instead, he'd just threatened to destroy the people who'd ruined his work.
Meanwhile, Hannibal... The last time I'd seen him-- Fuck.
The last time I'd seen Hannibal, he appeared stunned when he'd heard about what I'd done to Atlan. No doubt he'd have something to say over that... Gods, and if Hades had opened his big mouth about everything he'd seen when he'd dug into my brain, Hannibal would know everything.
My stomach churned, but there was nothing left to throw up.
"Menoetius," Arikos's voice suddenly snapped me back to reality and I looked up as he sat down on the bed in front of me and took my hand in his, "Calm down, it's alright. He's actually already been in here to check on you a couple times. All he did was stand there, paced a bit, then left." That made me even more sick. Fucking hell, he'd already been here.
"I don't want him here," I said, watching Arikos frown in confusion, "I really don't. Tell him I'm still out." If I could get Arikos to go do something for me, I was positive I'd have just enough time to get out of the palace, or at least halfway to the door. Or better yet, the window. It dropped right outside onto the rocks.
"Why?" Arikos asked suddenly. I blinked, then looked at him. His expression was calm, not panicked, not angry or offended. He seemed genuinely curious. I didn't want to tell him about the nightmare, about my daily ritual, about Tiberius. I didn't want to tell anyone about it. Everyone else already knew, and from what I could see, Arikos didn't and I didn't want him to look at me the way everyone else did. I just wanted one person to look at me and pretend I was normal.
I also felt like shit for not answering him, because he'd already told me so much about him. Fuck, I could probably write a damn book on everything Arikos had told me so far, but what was I supposed to say? I was afraid of the look Hannibal was going to give me? I was afraid, and so damn tired, of seeing his disgust in me? Did it even really matter anymore?
Hannibal was always going to look at me in disgust. He had every right to. He was the future king of the Atlantean pantheon, a rare hybrid god, a prophesied god, a hero. Just the thought of having kissed him made me sick. He'd already been sullied enough, and I had just made it so much worse.
Shuddering, I simply shook my head. There was no way to stop it. Hannibal was coming to talk to me about the war, and I had to give him everything I had. But I wasn't going to do it laying down.
"I need to get dressed," I said, pushing the blankets aside and struggling to get up.
"Absolutely not," Arikos exclaimed, quickly getting up to try and lay me back down, but I pushed my arm against his chest, breathing hard against the pain pulsing in my back, "Menoetius, stop, it's alright. Hannibal understands, believe me."
"It's not about him," I said, watching Arikos frown, "I want to stand up. I'm tired of laying down, Arikos, I really am, and I swear to the gods, if I have to lay in another bed, I'm going to vomit. I need to get up." Arikos appeared to be wrestling with the idea. He nibbled on his lower lip, studying my face before he groaned and reached out to cup my face. I hesitated when he did that, worried he was going to whack me in the head, or knock me out. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead, making my mouth fall open in surprise.
"Gods, I don't know how anyone can fight those eyes of yours, Menoetius. Ugh, you're so friggin' cute," he said, looking peeved, but he pushed the blankets back and took my hands in his, "Come on, let's get you on your feet, but only until Hannibal leaves. Then your ass is in that bed and you're gonna eat and nap." I gave him a weird look. He always said the strangest things.
Cute? Yeah, like a donkey's ass maybe. And suddenly, I was self-conscious about my eyes.
"Gods, Menoetius, your eyes are so ugly! I can't tell if they're like a woman's eyes or a cow's eyes. Have you ever thought of just gouging out your eyes? Or maybe at least one? Then you'd be mistaken for a Cyclops!" There he is, my subconscious Atlas. I had almost thought he'd abandoned me for a while there. The last time I'd heard him was when Atlan had told me to stand in front of that mirror, and the memory made me ill. I should've known right then what Atlan had been doing.
I had made it clear that I did not want to look at my reflection. Once again, I'd been ignored and forced to look. I just hoped Arikos wasn't as sadistic.
I took Arikos's hands, grimacing in pain as I pulled myself up. I managed to stand up, legs wobbling. I almost fell over, but Arikos caught me carefully and righted me, looking up at me worriedly.
"Are you sure you want to do this? I can just tell Hannibal to come back tomorrow--"
"No," I shook my head, pushing Arikos an arm's length away, at the same time using his shoulders to stay balanced, "We don't have time. I have to help Hannibal." I'd betrayed Atlan for him. I'd spent all that time with Atlan, gathering as much information as I could-- for Hannibal. This was the moment that I had been preparing for. I wasn't going to lay in bed while we discussed war.
"Menoetius," Arikos said gently, making me frown at his sudden change in tone, almost like he was caught between being amazed and scared, "Can we just not talk about Hannibal for a second?"
"I thought you liked talking about him," I replied with a frown. It seemed like whenever we were together, Hannibal was a frequent topic in our discussions. Arikos sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, looking embarrassed and upset before he sighed in frustration.
"I really don't, to be honest. I kept doing it because, well, Hannibal was the only person that made your eyes glow. He was the only thing that made you feel at least remotely happy. I wanted to see you happy, so I thought Hannibal this, and Hannibal that would make things easier. But it's just making things worse, and don't get me wrong, I love my cousin. He's great, but you're better and I want to talk about you. I want to help you... You need to help you," he explained. I stared at him, caught off guard by his words. I studied his eyes, sparkling silver like Atlan's, but there was something different about Arikos's eyes.
Atlan's were almost exactly what I expected them to be. When he was sad, his eyes were dewy. When he was happy, they glowed. With Arikos's... There was an honest sincerity that seared me. I found myself wondering how many years Atlan had to rehearse those little things in order to manipulate everyone around him. I wondered if he'd developed that trait, tricking Xiphrus into falling in love with him.
But Arikos didn't have that. He didn't have anything to gain from me right now. My loyalty was ensured. What would he get from me if he lied to me?
"You were doing the same thing you did when you took me to the restaurants," I said, watching Arikos smile sheepishly, "You took me to places you knew would make me feel comfortable."
"Yeah."
"And you chose things to talk about that I could... that I liked to talk about."
"Yeah."
"But why? I know you say you love me, and I'm sorry that I'm dense and don't understand this kind of thing, but if you truly loved me, why would you talk about the other person I love?" I asked. Arikos pursed his lips for a moment, tilted his head slightly, searched my face, then smiled.
"Didn't matter if it hurt me. I just really wanted to see you smile," he responded. I stared at him in disbelief.
"Smile?" I asked. I couldn't remember a time in my life I'd ever truly smiled. The first time I'd ever laughed had been when I realized how fucking stupid I was. But smiling?
"Yeah," Arikos said, then reached up to very gently pinch my cheeks, giving them a slight tug, "Just a really tiny hint of one, but it was so much better than seeing you sad." Heat rushed to my cheeks and my mouth opened, but nothing came out. I couldn't think of a response to that. I couldn't fathom what he was saying. Even worse, Arikos had laid his hands on my cheeks and I waited to lash out, waited for the extreme discomfort, the itching sensation beneath my skin that begged for an escape, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
There was a knock on the bedroom door, and I expected Arikos to yank his hands away, but he just smiled at me once more, patted my cheek gently, then stepped back and went to answer the door. I watched him go, confused by our exchange until I heard Hannibal's voice and I straightened.
Instant pain roared up my spine and my legs trembled, so I caught the nightstand, forced myself to stay standing. I took a deep breath and righted myself. I had wanted to get dressed in something more appropriate, but I really didn't have any other clothing. Just the navy scrubs I'd somehow been put in... and my skin got that creepy crawling sensation again at the thought of people touching me while I was unconscious.
Shuddering, I shook my head and forced myself to stand up straight, turning to see Hannibal coming around the corner with Arikos.
Hannibal looked... exhausted. It was like he hadn't slept in weeks. His long sleek black hair fell over one shoulder, and he was decked out in Lucifer's uniform, with what appeared to be another uniform tucked under his arm. His mismatched eyes locked on me the moment he saw me, and widened slightly. He stopped at the corner. Arikos glanced at him warily, then at me.
Somehow, I knew what he was asking me.
"I'm good from here, Arikos. Thanks," I added. He nodded. He eyed Hannibal one last time, and Hannibal glanced at him out the corner of his eye. It was like they had some secret way of talking without words before Arikos left us to speak in private.
Hannibal turned back toward me, his expression unreadable. It wasn't disgust, but I was waiting for it, on pins and needles really. But a long, uncomfortable silence stretched between us and I couldn't stand it anymore, so I cleared my throat, despite the extreme pain that burned there as I spoke.
"Lucifer informed me I was added to your group, whatever it is. He said you would explain everything and I have information I prepared from my stay with Atlan. Unfortunately, I couldn't gather any kind of military intelligence. Atlan made sure to keep his own army out of my sight. I only had contact with him and a servant named Diana, who is now deceased. I do have an idea on how Atlan works, however," I explained. Hannibal continued to stare at me.
He didn't say a word. He just stared at me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My skin itched. My chest was tightening, adding further to the pain throbbing up my legs and into my back. Whatever drug it was that Hades had fed me, it had long worn off and left me in serious pain. I felt cold sweat dripping down the back of my neck, sliding past my temple.
He probably wants you to go on, stupid.
Right.
"I wasn't in a military protected castle," I continued, "It looked like it hadn't been redone in eons. Atlan probably keeps his military base either on a different part of the island I was on, or possibly another location. I'm afraid I don't have much military wise, as I mentioned. Atlan, on the other hand, can be easy to work if you know what to say and do." Wow, Menoetius, why don't you come right out and say you fucked him and get on with it? Realizing my horrible choice of words, I struggled to keep the heat out of my face and before I knew it, I was babbling.
"I mean, manipulate," well, now don't I sound like the bad guy, "I mean, t-talk to. He's extremely manipulative, like I was told, but he does it in a way you can't pick up on. He makes it seem like he's the good guy, like he says things that persuade you into thinking he's trying to help you, when in fact he knows exactly what brings you down and disguises his degradations behind compliments." What the fuck did that have to do with a war? What was Atlan going to do? Use reverse mind fucks on us on the battlefield and have us wake up crying in the middle of the night?
And Hannibal just continued to stare at me. By now, I'd lost control of the ability to keep the blood out of my face and I could feel the blush spreading across the rest of my face. And for some reason, Arikos's comment about my eyes suddenly came into my head and I dropped my eyes to the floor, clearing my throat and trying to find the control to remain calm and casual, despite the panic raising my heartrate... which only caused the stupid machines Hades had plugged into me to start beeping louder.
I snatched the sticky pads off my chest, hissing in pain both at the snatch of hairs that came out with it and the sharp jolt of movement that caused pain to erupt in my back and down my left leg. I teetered, caught myself on the nightstand, breathing hard. Frustration burned my blood to the point where I felt like the room had just gone up several dozen degrees.
"Will you fucking say something, you stupid hybrid? Are you deaf as well as dumb? Or did you leave your brain back with your master?" I snarled. Hannibal blinked, as if snapping out of some trance. I saw a tic throb in his jaw for a moment, then he took a deep breath and approached the bed, setting the uniform under his arm on the bed.
"That's your new uniform," he said, and his deep growl made my knees weak against my will... and also spike a rise in fear, "Lucifer's symbol is stitched into the left arm and your personal emblem will go on your right once you choose it. You're joining my unit starting today... Hades calls it the Criminal Brigade, but it's officially deemed Deliverance." The look of annoyance that made his brow furrow and his mouth twitched when he mentioned Hades's special name for them almost succeeded in making me laugh.
"Who else is part of this unit? How many?" I asked as I picked up the uniform, pausing at the silky smooth, soft material. It was light, flexible. Was this really a military uniform? At my questioning stare, Hannibal inclined his head.
"Another Hades product. More of a proto-type. Along with being a unit chosen solely for front line action, we also get the honor," could there be anymore venomous sarcasm in that word?, "Of testing out all of Hades's military gear. He calls this uniform the trastis." I grimaced.
"Suicide?" I asked, translating what little Atlantean I knew. Hannibal nodded.
"You'll learn to develop selective hearing when Hades talks," he responded, "It's made of the hide of the drakon that Arikos, Akin, and I killed a while back. Their flesh is impenetrable, more so than a hydra's, and it's skin lasts longer."
"If it's impenetrable, how did he manage to make this?"
"It's impenetrable from the outside, not the inside."
"Ew," I deadpanned, dropping the uniform on the bed. Hannibal's mouth twitched for a moment, almost like he was amused, but I passed it off as nothing, so I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, "Lucifer says we'll be preparing to face Atlan in battle. Are you prepared to cut his throat?" Hannibal looked at me. His expression became that same hardened serious expression I was so used to seeing.
"I'm more than prepared. Are you?" He asked. I glared at him. For fuck's sake, even after everything I'd done, he still didn't trust me?
Can you blame him? Not really... I guess.
"I believe I've proved my loyalty as best I can. You can trust me at your back, Hannibal, I—"
"That's not what I meant," Hannibal said, making me frown as he studied me curiously now, "I never... There's a reason I chose you, Menoetius, and not Atlas or Prometheus or Epimetheus." I scowled.
"Yeah, because I was the only one who wasn't a pile of brain dead goo... or holding up the heavens. It would be rather counter productive to call Atlas out considering the mortal realm would be smashed under the weight of a thousand realms," I replied dryly. Hannibal frowned.
"No, because you were always the one that fought at my back, even when I thought you fucking hated me," he said. I went still at that.
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't really come up with a comeback off the top of my head about how he was a lying sack of shit, because apparently we both knew that I had gone out of my way to make sure Hannibal hadn't gotten speared in the back by an enemy soldier, or worse, one of our own. I'd taken a sword for Hannibal quite a few times, spewing bullshit afterwards about how it was an accident and my fault and Iapetus would nearly break my neck over it.
The thing was that I had never expected Hannibal to notice. It didn't seem like he had. He never said anything about it and I'd gone out of my way to be discreet about it. If Iapetus had known I was taking damage because of Hannibal, he'd kick the shit out of Hannibal.
"I don't understand," I said at last. Hannibal averted his eyes. He looked uncomfortable. I raised an eyebrow, watching him as he turned away from me to look around the room, like he was hoping to find conversational help written on the walls. I sighed.
"Hannibal," I said, making him look up, "You don't have to do this."
"Do what?" Hannibal asked. Since when was he so talkative? Or at least, with me, in a way that didn't involve fists, swear words, and a few choice Atlantean curses that would have Lea fainting.
"This," I said, gesturing to the awkward atmosphere around us, "Don't come here pretending to be civil for the sake of your husband or mother or whoever else put you up to this. We don't have time to waste on this. There's nothing here, but a mutual military obligation that I am prepared to accept. After this is over, I'll wait for your next orders. I don't need this uniform or a position on your unit. We both know that all you have to do is call me and I'll be there. So don't try to butter me up with bullshit sap your husband made up on the fly to inspire you. I won't be part of it. I came here to do a job." Hannibal rolled his eyes, but not like he was disgusted, so much as an expression of frustration, his tongue passing over a sleek white fang before he looked at me.
"And stop looking at me like that," I snapped, "You're freaking me the fuck out. If you're gonna hit me, do it and get it over with. I'm starving, and I mean, I am literally starving. I haven't eaten in gods know how long." Hannibal said nothing for a moment, then nodded.
"Fine, we'll talk about it later," he said, heading for the door, then he paused and turned back to look at me, "And put the fucking uniform on, lieutenant." He left without another word, and I scowled, confused by his words. Did he just completely ignore my refusal to join his shit brigade or whatever it was?
"Wow," Arikos said, making me look up as he came into the room, shaking his head and thrusting a thumb over his shoulder, "Hannibal looks like a puffed up eagle. You didn't tell him he looked good in that uniform, did you?" I scoffed at the idea, though, I had to admit he did look... extremely good in that uniform. I shook the thought of my mind as I turned back to the uniform on the bed, picking it up to study it in the light with a frown.
"Nice," Arikos commented, making me glance at him, "The uniform. I bet it'll be comfortable. Hades and Lea worked together on this one and Lucifer designed the holster you'll probably get the day you go out to battle." I didn't know what to say to that, so I just looked back at the uniform with a frown before slowly laying it on the bed.
"Why did he give me this?" I asked. Arikos looked at me curiously for a moment, then he somehow seemed to realize what I meant without my explanation and he smiled.
"Because he trusts you, Menoetius."
"Bullshit. He has never, and will never, trust me. He never told me about what I was, what Atlan wanted with me, about being the Key to Atlantis, because he thought I would choose Atlan over him." Suddenly annoyed again, I managed to sit down on the bed without doubling over in pain, though my ribs protested the movement like craz. I grimaced, clutching my side, and Arikos came over to sit beside me, picking up his glass of ice water to take out an ice cube and rub it over my skin. I hissed for a moment, then relaxed as the coldness numbed a bit of the pain.
"He didn't keep it from you because he didn't trust you," Arikos told me gently, looking up at me, "He kept it from you because he was scared. Hannibal doesn't handle fear well. When he's scared, he tries to take control over the situation, and unfortunately, ends up fucking it up. See, this is why Akin's the one who calls the shots. Guy doesn't know left from right, so he goes down." I frowned at that. Scared of what? What could Hannibal possibly be scared of, aside from losing Akin?
"We do dumb things when we're scared," Arikos said after a moment. I paused at that, remembering the way Arikos had launched an abrupt attack on Atlan without even really thinking about it.
"Like blowing up castles?" I asked. Arikos blushed lightly, gave the ice cube a push and I grimaced, watching him take the melty cube and put it on the tray by the food.
"I just... I don't know how to explain it," he murmured, twiddling his fingers and looking down at them to avoid my stare, "I just go so mad, scared, because I know how Atlan is. I don't know what mask he wore with you, Menoetius, but he's always the same when... when he gets with someone, you know, like that." Heat bloomed across my face before I could stop it and I averted my eyes, rubbing my arm warily.
"I'm sorry to bring it up," Arikos said quickly, "I don't want to embarrass you or make you talk about it. I just wish I'd been there to stop it before it happened."
"It wouldn't have changed my mind," I replied, watching Arikos's expression wilt, but I shook my head, "No, it's not that... I don't... I did it to save Akin, I told you that. I couldn't think of any other way to get the spellbook. I needed the spell to save him. Atlan wasn't just going to hand it over, even though he said he would. He'd find a way to distract me, like he did when I was trying to survey the castle and find an escape. He came up with bullshit excuses about wanting to make me all better, or some garbage like that." Arikos looked down at the floor sadly.
"Yeah, but you... You made an incredible sacrifice, Menoetius. You did something that terrified you, something that probably hurt you in every way possible, just so you could save Akin. That's probably the most selfless thing I can think of."
I didn't know what to say to that. It was rare that someone looked at the things I did and didn't see betrayal or self-motivation. It was never really about that. I was tired of looking at myself, tired of seeing something that was beyond hope of fixing. But I could fix other things. Even though Hannibal had gotten angry with me over it, I had gotten rid of nearly a hundred predators who would've not only gone back to hurt Hannibal, but who had also gone on to harm others. I had saved Amenti...
My vision blurred before I could stop it and I quickly cleared my throat, reaching up to brush at my eye, reaching for the food on the tray.
"Menoetius?"
"I'm fine. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
"Okay," Arikos nodded in understanding and touched my arm to comfort me before he took his tray off the cart to place in his lap so he could start poking around at his food. He didn't really eat much, but I couldn't stop myself from scraping my plate clean. I was definitely more hungry than I thought I'd been, and after a couple hours, I'd cleaned off my plate and Arikos's.
"I'm sorry," I apologized as he put the plates on the cart, "I didn't think--"
"Don't be sorry," Arikos said with a laugh, "I actually wasn't hungry. I just knew you'd flip if you saw me bring a banquet in here, so I brought it in knowing you'd eat it." I blushed.
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," Arikos said with a smile, "I'll be right back. Do you want any dessert or anything else to drink?" I shook my head.
"That was more than enough. Thank you." Arikos brightened at that, then leaned over to press his lips to my temple. I froze at the gesture, then looked up at him, confused. He just smiled before departing from the room. I watched him go, then settled back down on the bed, bringing the sheets up around me as a cold draft wafted into the room. I rubbed at my temple where Arikos had kissed me.
How strange.
That felt like such a normal gesture.
Could I have normal?
Best not to push it. I'd had enough dreams turned into nightmares. I wasn't going to overthink it this time. Instead, I settled down on the bed and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to relax my tense muscles. I hadn't realized I'd locked them until after Hannibal had left. I knew my nightmare brought on by Dekokles wasn't a real thing. I knew Hannibal wouldn't do something like that.
And yet, for some reason, seeing him again made me tense and sick to my stomach. Even worse, I kept expecting him to curl his lip at me, to tell me how disgusting it was that I'd done something with Atlan of all people. The thought curdled my stomach and I found myself curling up as best I could under the blankets.
I didn't want to think about what I'd done with Atlan. It certainly wasn't like my experiences before, but it wasn't any better. It seemed that the further I delved into the sin of touch, the more disgusted with it I became. I found no pleasure in it, couldn't understand why anyone would, aside from the person who was doing all the damage. Atlan appeared to have enjoyed it, but said nothing to reassure me in the end. He'd simply finished and fallen asleep with his back to me.
At least he didn't spit on you or make you bleed as much as the others. That was true. Still, it was definitely something I would endeavor to avoid from here on out. I was tired of sacrificing myself for nothing more than a split second of pleasure for the other person. I needed a break. A century long break.
I just hoped Arikos understood.
I sighed, burying my face against the pillow and finding myself drifting off into a heavy sleep. It felt strange, dark and cold. I listened for the telltale buzz of the Source taking root in my subconscious to communicate, but there was nothing of the sort. No, all I heard was a soft trickling of water, the droplets landing into a shallow puddle. The sound echoed around me, as if I were in some kind of underground chamber.
The dripping sound was driving me insane. Even worse, a strange distant moan of agony came from the darkness and I tensed, feeling my heart jump in my chest, pounding hard against my breastbone. Something shuffled in the puddles around me, and I held my breath, turning toward the sound of the movement. Another moan echoed around me, and I realized I was in some sort of sewer system, or at least, that's what it sounded like. The sounds bounced around me, then seemed to travel further beyond in the darkness.
Another moan, then abruptly it was silenced. A puddle splashed nearby and I snapped toward it, then heard something smash against the wall, hear stones fall loose from the walls, something squeaked, and then silence. Aside from that incenesst dripping sound. I ground my teeth together.
Another nightmare? How? I had gotten rid of the necklace. It was now in Zetnos's hands. Had he released his son somehow? Or had Hades decided to take back what little mercy he'd given me? Were my nightmares still to continue?
More angry now than frightened, I stood my ground, scanning the oppressive darkness that hurt my eyes more than a bright light would.
"Malachi?" I demanded. My voice echoed on the walls around me, seemed to continue on for miles before it faded.
"If that's you, you bastard demigod, turn on the damn lights and show your face. I'm really in the mood to kick your ass," I called angrily. My voice echoed, then abruptly came to a stop and I went silent as the dripping water sound ceased. Something creaked, then in the distance, I spotted a pair of lanterns lighting up, and slowly, two rows of lanterns on either side of the tunnel snapped on until I was surrounded by light and allowed a view of the tunnel around me.
It was definitely ancient, made with old stones, a few having fallen from the wall to pile in a puddle of water that was oozing from a pipe that came down from above. I frowned, then felt the air shift behind me, spinning around, expecting to see Malachi, only to find someone I'd never seen before.
A child, or at least, what appeared to be a child. He probably was no more than ten-years-old. His long black hair fell over one shoulder, his eyes a swirling, moving blood red. His skin was stark white, save for his pink lips and black fingernails. His features were impish and sweet, but there was a blankness to his expression that a child normally wouldn't have. He wore nearly transparent black robes that fell around him almost like a blanket shield. Something about him reminded me oddly of Hannibal, and I wasn't sure what.
But after a moment, I realized who this was.
"Dekokles," I stated. The boy's red eyes widened for a moment, then returned to normal and he tilted his head in a way that was so innocent. It reminded me of Amenti.
"You're Zetnos's son... Hannibal's cousin," I added, wondering if he knew the hybrid's name. Dekokles's red eyes seemed to glow at that, then lowered to the ground. He looked around, as if he was hoping the sewers held the answers, then he looked back up at me. He said something in Atlantean, and I frowned, confused.
"I don't speak that much Atlantean," I replied. Dekokles nodded.
"My apologies," he responded, and though his voice was soft and sweet, his words were that of an adult, "I'm afraid my Greek is not too good. I know only of what I saw in your brain. My words mean that I am apologizing for the nightmares I have stirred in your brain." The way he phrased things sounded weird, but I managed to pick up on what he meant and frowned.
"It's not your fault. Atlan used you," I said. Dekokles's eyes darkened at that and he went over to put his hand on the wall.
"As he does often," he answered, then tilted his head to look up and around the sewer before he looked at me, "You are the only creature to ever see where I dwell." I scowled, confused by that. I could've sworn he was locked in a necklace, not a sewer.
"Aren't you in Geara's necklace?" I asked. Dekokles's eyes widened at that, and he turned to stare at me for a moment, then he blinked and looked away to gaze around the tunnel.
"Like you, and like me, Atlan has corrupted beauty," he murmured, touching the stones in the tunnel gently, as if they were friends or pets even, "Mother Geara's necklace was never purposed for a prison. It was intended as a gift."
"A gift," I repeated, curiously. I had wondered how Atlan got his hands on something like that, and something so ancient. Dekokles dropped his hand from the stones to turn and stare at me with those eerie, moving eyes of his. It was almost like the color within his irises had a mind of its own.
"Long, long ago, Mother Geara and her brother, Joxeia, had to fight their brother, Xiphrus. Atlan had corrupted destruction and corrupted love. It was never made for pain," Dekokles frowned, looking down at his empty tiny palm, making a squeezing motion, as if he were trying to feel something there, then looked back up at me, "Mother Geara made a necklace to ease Joxeia's pain, because he loved Xiphrus the most. But Atlan took it from him and made it a prison. The necklace symbolizes what Atlan does. The necklace is very beautiful, very shiny and lovely, on the outside. But this is what is inside the necklace. It's very cold. Very dark. Very lonely." His eyes grew sad for a moment, then became numb again.
A strange ache started in my chest, and I had just met the kid, a kid who'd twisted my subconscious into a horrible barrage of nightmares. Not that I could blame him with Atlan pulling the strings on him.
"That is what he tried to do to you," Dekokles continued, making me frown, "He makes... very beautiful things, but inside, they are very ugly. You have noticed, I know you have. It is in all things he makes. His children, of his blood. The Atlantean Blood Beasts. They are named rightly so. Beautiful and powerful, but there is darkness in all of them." I almost argued that Anexius had appeared pretty nice to me, but that wasn't always the case. Anexius had become angry enough to sink an entire island nation, had gone as far as to make a pact with the Source itself to get rid of his own family, and while said family fucking deserved it, it was still a drastic measure that caused more damage to innocent people than to the intended targets.
In the end, Atlantis was dead.
All that survived was the darkness that was fostered at its heart.
It was sad.
"I have come to say to you," Dekokles continued, making me frown when I realized he'd gotten closer, and now had to crane his neck to stare up at me, "I apologize for the darkness I have rooted inside you. Atlan may have pulled my strings, as you say, but I did not need to throw your brother in such a manner at your face. The hybrid is not that evil monster that Atlan wants to make him. The hybrid is still beauty and still goodness. If Atlan has him as he wants him, though, the hybrid can and will become that monster. And not even he himself, the true King, can stop it. He may be spoken of by the Cosmos, but he is not truly King without his army. You are part of his army, my Key of Atlantis. You are much more important than you believe, and not because the Cosmos says these things, but because the King is nothing without his most loyal soldier."
I stared at him in disbelief. Was I being inspirationally spoken to by a ten-year-old?
"I am eight-thousand three-hundred and forty-four years old," Dekokles corrected flatly. I eyed him warily.
"Can you avoid the mind reading thing?"
"If I were in your reality, yes. Unfortunately, your brain is very loud here," Dekoles said with a helpless shrug, then smiled for the first time, reaching out to take my hand in his, "Keep your heart pure, my Key of Atlantis, and before you say something to me of no purity, think twice of those words. Purity is not measured by our physical form. As someone who lacks physical form, this is something I know very sure of. Purity is in our hearts and in our souls, and no one, but we can corrupt them. Protect your heart, and protect the heart of the true King. Else, Atlan will become what he dreams so fondly of, and the world will be lost to his corruption. Do not let him turn the world into this cold and dark place. It's very lonely here." I opened my mouth to say something, to ask if there was some way for me to help him out of this place, but suddenly everything went dark.
The lights went out, the sewer sounds vanished completely vanished.
And I woke up in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the ocean waves crashing against the cliffside outside, the soft breeze billowing the curtains framing the balcony doors, and I swore I heard the distant sound of the Source softly purring.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt strangely refreshed... and clean.